


The Worst Cook in Essex

by Snarry5evr



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Manipulative Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 01:53:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12571076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarry5evr/pseuds/Snarry5evr
Summary: Harry loves to cook. Severus doesn’t think he’s all that great at it.





	The Worst Cook in Essex

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [The Worst Cook In Essex - Snarry5evr](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12699801) by [thesnarrysarchivist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesnarrysarchivist/pseuds/thesnarrysarchivist)



> This Fic came as a direct result of a conversation with Masaothedog, a truly wonderful artist who makes great Snarry (even if his Snape is short) over my headcanon that Harry loved to cook with Masao’s suggestion that Severus was indifferent to the food he ate. One thing led to another and this is the result. And because I like to make my life difficult and constantly challenge myself, I decided to try for a non-pwp that was less than 5k word count (Obviously I failed on that part) involving an established relationship. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it.

Harry Potter pulled the delicious-looking roast from the oven and inhaled the savory aroma. He levitated the hot pan over to the counter before pulling the boiled potatoes from the stove. He flicked his wand at the cabinet and watched it fly open. Two plates landed on the counter, and Harry dished out the food. Before long, the table was set with two place settings of an incredible-looking meal along with two glasses of red wine. If this didn’t get Severus’s attention, Harry didn’t know what he was going to do.

It had taken Harry nearly three years after the war to work up the courage to approach his former professor, and another five years of dating before the man finally agreed to move in. Harry liked to think it was the incredible sex that had convinced Severus to finally move in, but he rather suspected it was the large basement he had agreed to turn into a lab for the man’s personal use. That had been six months ago, and there really only seemed to be one small hitch in their arrangement. Okay, yes, they were Potter and Snape so there were bound to be fireworks and possibly a few hexes on a rather weekly basis. But the make-up sex was incredible, and Severus always kept soothing balms and pastes on hand for some of the nastier hexes and possible falling debris. Though Harry had taken care of most of that with sticking charms after their first big row, only two weeks after Severus had moved in, which had left the living room in shambles. They both knew some pretty brilliant hexes, and were both fairly agile in dodging said hexes. This hex-dodging agility came in quite handy once they were sweaty and worn out from the fight, ready to move on to better things... But Harry digressed. The fights were not the problem in the relationship. No, the problem was Harry’s cooking. Well, not his cooking, per se, but Severus’s lack of appreciation of it.

Soon after moving out on his own (once he had finished his schooling and that nasty Dark Lord was dispatched, obviously), Harry had discovered he had a knack for cooking. He loved it. Loved finding new recipes and making delicious food. He had spent countless hours by Molly’s side learning little tricks and developing recipes of his own. When Severus had first moved in, Harry had spent many evenings trying different recipes, trying to figure out what foods Severus liked best. He knew when they went to Antonio’s, Severus always ordered the veal, when they dined at St. John’s he enjoyed the roasted bone marrow, and Harry knew exactly what kind of panini Severus would order when they spent the afternoon at the Market. Harry _knew_ all of this, had bloody dated the man for five years, and had had countless meals with him. But even so, since the day Severus had moved in, Harry would cook a nice dinner and attempt to get Severus’s opinion on the meal. Attempt being the operative word, because no matter what Harry cooked, no matter how much effort he had put into it, Severus’s answer was always the same. “It’s fine, Harry. Wonderful as always.” Sometimes Harry even wondered if the renowned Potions Master even actually tasted the food Harry cooked. Just last week, Harry had added a tad too much pepper to the shepherd's pie just to see if Snape would notice. The only reaction had been an extra glass of wine. It was quite frustrating.

Harry made his way to the lab door, wondering what he would do if tonight’s efforts went unnoticed. It was almost enough to make him toss in the towel. He pulled the door open and stuck his head in to assess the situation. Severus, looking quite yummy in muggle trousers and the thin tees he had taken to wearing while working in the lab, stood over his worktable slicing some root-looking _thing._ Harry cautiously moved down the stairs, avoiding the fourth one that squeaked, and waited for Severus to put the knife down. Black eyes looked up at him, and that now-familiar, crooked half smile pulled at the thin lips.

“Come to distract me, Potter?”

Harry bit his lip, thought about the food on the table upstairs, and sent a warming charm to it. He moved further into the lab, towards the brown leather couch Severus used for naps when he was working on a difficult potion. Harry sat down, and ran a hand over the worn leather on the back of the couch. “Well, dinner’s ready, but I suppose I could be convinced to offer dessert first.”

Later, Harry was glad Severus had taken up his offer. Because by the time they had finished off the incredibly delicious meal, if Harry did say so himself (and apparently he was the _only one_ saying so), Harry wanted nothing more to do with his lover and partner. “It’s fine,” indeed! Well, if Severus couldn’t appreciate a good meal, then what the hell was Harry even trying for? He might as well fix a pot of spaghetti, toss a bottle of thousand island dressing in with tomato sauce, and call it a meal. Harry grumbled to himself, as he put away the leftovers once Severus had gone back to his lab. Harry gave a small huff of frustration, his eyes landing on the freshly-bought bottle of dressing he had intended to use with the following night’s salad. A malicious smile slid across his lips. Oh, this was going to be fun.  

\-------------------

Severus had to admit that moving in with Harry had probably been the best idea he’d ever had. Not only had Harry allowed him to turn his basement into a better lab than Severus had ever worked with, but there was the added bonus of waking up to the lithe, warm body every morning. Initially, when Harry had first approached him about a date, Severus had been skeptical, quite sure the brat was out for some sort of twisted revenge. But the offer had been for Severus’s favorite restaurant, and Severus wasn’t a Slytherin for nothing. Nor had he been a spy for so many years without learning a thing or two. If the offer did indeed turn out to be some sort of sick revenge plot, well, at least he’d gotten a free dinner out of the deal. But one date had turned to two, then to three, and before Severus knew it, they were celebrating six months. Well, Harry was celebrating, and Severus was apparently just along for the ride. Which suited him just fine because, fuck, if James Potter had blessed his son with _that_ particular asset, no wonder Lily Evans had snatched him up so quickly. Once Harry was fully sated- er celebrated, Severus had asked what took so long. Harry simply replied he had been waiting until Severus was convinced of his intentions. They had been “celebrating” ever since.

Moving in hadn’t been without its ups and downs, what with Harry being Harry. He hadn’t been cowed by Severus since he was fifteen, and he wasn’t about to back down now. Thankfully, Severus was an excellent duelist; unfortunately, so was Harry. Fortunately, the man also knew how to give terrific apology blow jobs, and his shower was big enough for two, especially with Severus pressed against the wall. All in all, Severus was extremely pleased with their living arrangements. Plus, Harry never forget to remind him to eat.

Severus had spent the afternoon relaxing, finally caught up on his brewing for his owl order business, so, for once, Harry hadn’t had to come get him when dinner was ready. Severus settled at the table, watching Harry’s gentle sway of his hips as he pulled the salad from the cold box, and dished it out beside the spaghetti that already decorated Severus’s plate. Harry’s quidditch calloused fingers slid down Severus’s bare arm causing a shiver of delight to course down his spine. Severus licked his lips, already hungry for Harry’s sweet arse as it sashayed around the table. Harry settled in his chair and smiled sweetly at him as Severus took a sip of his wine. Harry bent his head to his food. Severus watched the plump lips wrap around the fork, and felt his blood begin to stir. He felt it best to finish his own dinner quickly and grabbed his fork. Severus nearly gagged when the food entered his mouth.

Harry gave him a concerned look. “Is everything alright, Severus?”

Panic filled Severus. Oh, Merlin, what was he supposed to say? He’d been living with Harry for six months now; had eaten everything Harry had painstakingly made, and placed before him. How could he now admit that his partner’s cooking was god-awful horrible? He took a sip of the white wine to wash the taste away. “It’s fine, Harry,” he choked out. Harry smiled brilliantly at him, and went back to his own food. Severus gaped in horror as Harry stuffed another forkful of the horrible concoction in his mouth. Surely Harry had never made anything this horrible before? Wouldn’t Severus had noticed? Ok, grant it, he was typically thinking of the mind-blowing sex they had just engaged in, or were about to engage in, or was distracted by whatever potion he was in the middle of; but surely he would have noticed if Harry had served him something practically inedible. Wouldn’t he? He wasn’t that unobservant, was he? Damn it, he was a spy. Or had been for nearly half his life. Plus he’d been a professor, responsible for hundreds of students over the years. Granted it had been in a fairly controlled environment, but this was fucking dinner! How could he miss Harry’s blatant attempts at poisoning him? Severus gave a mental sigh. What could he expect from someone who was so abysmal at potions? Severus grabbed a slice of bread and took a bite then quickly grabbed his wine. Well, at least the overpowering taste of garlic dulled out the horrid taste of the spaghetti. Thank Merlin Harry was better at sex than cooking.  

\-------------------

The problem was, having realized the extent of Harry’s cooking “abilities,” Severus could not un-realize them. Some meals were worse than others, but it was still awful. There was the homemade pizza that Severus was nearly wholly certain Harry had put mayonnaise on. (For the love of god, who puts mayonnaise on _pizza_ ?) Then had been fajitas made with jalapeño peppers and green onions, rather than bell peppers and _normal_ onions, not to mention the rice that had been simply white rice with more jalapeños added to it. There had even been Harry’s attempt at Alfredo sauce where Severus was fairly certain the man had used blue cheese rather than Parmesan. Needless to say, Severus was getting desperate. He often found himself sneaking out around midday to a nearby take away or stopping at a deli on his way to Diagon Alley for ingredients. After the first week, he suggested they go out to eat with the excuse that they rarely went on dates anymore since they had moved in. Harry had smiled brilliantly, and, eventually, they had made it to Antonio’s.

Severus had a rather brilliant plan (if he said so himself) to turn on the cooking channel. Their house was located on the edge of Essex in a nice muggle neighborhood that allowed them the advantage of a few muggle technologies including a television. He often came up from his lab after a late night of brewing to find Harry snuggled on the couch with the tele going strong. The second Friday after that horrible dinner, Severus made sure to finish his brewing as early as possible. Once dinner was over, he asked Harry if they might watch a bit of the tele. A surprised but happy Harry acquiesced at once. Severus offered to go pick out the show while Harry made popcorn; even Harry couldn’t ruin that. By the time Harry appeared in the sitting room with a large bowl of popcorn, Severus had settled on one of the cooking shows that was showing an odd little competition. He was surprised to discover that he was actually enjoying the show but was a tad disappointed at the end when Harry snatched the remote away.

“There’s another one coming on after this one,” he said indignantly. Although the show had been slightly informative on certain aspects of cooking, he felt Harry needed more exposure if Severus ever hoped to have another decent meal again.

“Why do I want to watch cooking shows?” Harry whined as he clicked the remote. “I already know how to cook.” Green eyes blinked owlishly up at Severus. Severus relented, thinking there was always next week. Tomorrow was Saturday, and he had every intention of “asking” Harry out on another dinner date, and the following day was Sunday at the Burrow. At least Severus was eating well on the weekends.

After nearly a month of cooking competition shows, slimy spaghetti, and crunchy rice, Severus came to two conclusions. First of all his plan wasn’t working. Second of all, they either needed a second tv for their room, or needed to move the tv to their room because, apparently, Harry thought tv plus couch multiplied by cuddling equaled couch sex. It was the sort of math Severus could get behind, or in front of as the case usually was, but passing out on the couch often led to a sore back. He was nearing fifty after all. So Severus went back to the proverbial drawing board.

The idea came about from a trip to the market on a Thursday afternoon. Since the war, Harry had spent most of his time seeing to his estate, which included several muggle investments Harry’s grandfather had made, a magical sheep farm in Wales from the Black estate, Harry’s own business ventures including Weasley’s Wheezes and some others he had invested in after the war, and a Wizarding orphanage set up with proceeds from Albus Dumbledore’s estate and much of the restitution forced on families that had backed the Dark Lord even if they had not physically involved themselves in the fighting. The management of money took quite a bit of Harry’s time, but he was always happy to interrupt his business for time with Severus. Which is why Severus had decided on an outing after finishing early for once. Truthfully, he was low on a few things, and needed to make a trip to Diagon Alley. When he mentioned as much to Harry, Harry had replied that he needed to get to the market as well, to do a bit of grocery shopping. The thought of Harry making another dinner sent horror flooding through Severus. Pushing down the threatening bile, he suggested they make a day of it, and stop off at one of their favorite deli’s at the nearby market square. Harry had quickly agreed, and jumped from his desk to get changed.

The tight muggle jeans Harry had donned in preparation for a stroll through a muggle market soon joined Severus’s own shirt and trousers on the floor. Eventually, they made it to Diagon Alley and then the market square. As they were seated at a sidewalk table enjoying paninis and sodas, a trio of women settled at the table next to them continuing their inane chatter. ~~Severus was not normally one for eavesdropping.~~ Severus was not normally interested in muggle conversation, but when one of the women mentioned how much happier her own husband was since she’d started improving her cooking with cooking classes, he couldn’t help but block out everything but their conversation. Apparently there was a local community center that offered a six week cooking class for a nominal fee. Severus vowed to look into it. He determined it was doable with a little bit of adjustment to his brewing schedule. Now, how to bring it up with Harry without actually mentioning that the man _needed_ the classes? Desperately.

The opportunity came less than a week later while they were snuggled on the couch watching the tail end of the seasonal-themed cooking competition. (Who knew gingerbread could be used in such a way?)

“You really like these cooking shows, don’t you?” Harry asked as his lips pressed against Severus’s neck. It took him a minute to figure out what Harry was saying.

“Oh. Yes. I think they are quite interesting. You can learn so much. Who knew sugar could temper the taste of ginger? Mmm.” Severus threw his head back as Harry’s hand slid beneath the elastic of Severus’s loungers. He knew he was supposed to be leading this conversation somewhere, but he just couldn’t think of where.

“I just thought you used sugar when you added too much salt,” Harry mumbled against Severus’s chest.

Oh, yes, that was it. Severus sat up, knocking Harry away from him. “Harry, wouldn’t it be fun if we did something like that?” Harry began to pull his hands away from Severus’s hardening cock.

“Like what?” he asked curiously. Severus grabbed Harry’s wrist to still it and twisted on the couch. He pulled Harry down on top of him.

“I don’t know. Something as a couple,” Severus said vaguely. “Like on the one we watched last week.”

Harry chuckled as he climbed up Severus’s body. “Go on a couple’s cooking show together? I don’t think my cooking is _that_ good, Severus.” Severus was fairly certain it wasn’t.

“No. I meant…” Severus paused as if thinking, and pressed his hips up against the insistent fingers that teased him. “What about a cooking class or something? I think I remember overhearing something about a local community center that offers something like that.”

Harry beamed down at him as cool air rushed across Severus’s newly exposed flesh. “You’d do something like that? With me?”

“Fuck, yes!” Severus cried as Harry orally showed his appreciation at the suggestion.  

\--------------------

“No, no, Mr. Potter. Baking _soda_ , not baking powder.”

“What’s the difference?” Harry pouted quietly as the “teacher” moved on. Severus bit back a groan as she looked over her shoulder. Not for the first time did the petite blonde that gave cooking lessons at the community center shoot him a sympathetic look. Severus just gave a small shrug, and went back to measuring out ingredients. At least with him at Harry’s side their dishes came out relatively edible. He was usually able to subtly guide Harry in the correct direction when he reached for the wrong ingredient, or suggest that perhaps graham crackers weren’t exactly the best crust ingredient for bacon and potato tarts.

Severus had to admit that the times he helped Harry in the kitchen, their dinners turned out edible, though he was still sneaking take away on occasion. Okay, every occasion he could. If he needed a trip to Diagon Alley, he stopped by the deli. If Harry had a meeting with one of his business partners, Severus rushed down the street to the nearby KFC. If Harry was at his monthly Gryffindor get together, Severus had a leisurely meal at Antonio’s, making sure to toss out whatever concoction Harry had left in his wake. But he was always, _always,_ very careful to dispose of the evide- er, trash as quickly and thoroughly as possible.

Which is why he was shocked one afternoon when he and Harry were pulling clothes from the washer, and a crumpled piece of paper fell onto the floor. He thought nothing of it when Harry reached for the trash, and uncrumpled it to make sure it wasn’t anything important. Severus tossed the bundle of robes in the basket, and turned back to see a red-faced Harry. He glanced down at the paper and felt himself pale. Fuck. Harry looked up, his green eyes glistening with betrayal and tears. Guilt swept through Severus, as he tried to quickly figure out a way to make this right.

“You… you had KFC for dinner?” Of course the only thing legible on the damn receipt would be the large black letters denoting the damn restaurant.

Severus’s mind worked quickly. He’d been a damned spy, for Merlin’s sake. He’d lied his way out of worse situations. _Yes, but the Dark Lord had never looked at you with those watery, emerald eyes,_ his mind helpfully supplied. “It was weeks ago, Harry. I stopped by on my way to Diagon. It had been a long day, and I had skipped lunch.”

Harry pressed his lips together and shook his head. “No. Those are the robes you wore Thursday. And you hardly ate your dinner Thursday.” Severus looked guiltily down at the robes in the basket. Damn, Harry was right. “What? Is my food not good enough for you?” Harry cried as he crumpled the receipt in his hand.

“Harry,” Severus reached out to comfort the man. How the hell was he supposed to handle this? Harry jerked back.

“No. You hardly eat dinner anymore. You used to come up from the lab and finish off an entire plate. I’ve thrown out more food in the last few months than the Weasleys go through in six months.” Severus didn’t doubt that. But how could he admit to Harry that he hadn’t really tasted the food before, but had recently come to the conclusion that his lover was a horrible cook? Possibly the worst cook in Essex, or, hell, the whole United Kingdom. “How could I possibly expect you to stay with me if you can’t even bear my cooking?” A tear slid down the tanned cheek, and Severus felt worse than… than Trevor on the receiving end of Longbottom’s potion. He was a horrible partner, and he’d made Harry feel awful. “How can I ever expect to be a good husband if you’re already going behind my back to sneak food?” Harry brought a hand up to his trembling lips as another tear slid down his cheek. “Oh, god! Is that why you forced those cooking classes on me? Am I really that bad?”

Well, yes, Severus thought. Wait. Husband? He looked up, but Harry was already rushing through the house. A moment later Severus flinched as the door to their room slammed shut. Bloody hell. Well he had royally mucked things up, hadn’t he? How the hell was he supposed to fix this? Severus sighed, and ran a hand down his face. Bloody hell. Clothes forgotten, Severus followed his lover to their room.

He knocked softly on the door and was greeted by silence. Carefully he pushed the door open to see Harry lying across the bed, his face pressed into a pillow. He stepped carefully into the room, hoping this didn’t end up as another wands-drawn, screaming, hex-throwing argument. His eyes darted to the bedside table, and his heart sank. Harry was apparently so upset by the argument that he didn’t even have his wand on him. Bloody hell. Severus moved over to the bed and lowered himself next to Harry’s feet. He carefully laid down on the bed on his side, facing Harry, and gently laid a hand on the slender back.

“Harry,” he said, adopting a soft, gentle tone he would never dare use in the classroom, “I don’t think your cooking is horrible,” he lied. “And I didn’t sign you up for the cooking classes because I thought you needed them,” he lied again. “I thought it would be a great way for us to spend time together,” he relaxed at finally being able to tell the truth. Severus brushed a finger through Harry’s dark mop. “We don’t have to go back to anymore classes if you don’t want to,” not that they were helping anyway. “But you have to admit; it is nice fixing a meal together. I do enjoy when we work together in the kitchen,” he said honestly. A small smile pulled at his lips, and he leaned down to press a kiss to Harry’s temple. “And we do have fun when it’s just us in the kitchen.” He let his hand slide down Harry’s back to squeeze the man’s taut bum. Harry turned red-rimmed eyes on Severus, and smiled meekly. Severus let his lips slide softly over Harry’s cheek. “And you always make me laugh.” It was true. One of the things Severus had realized over the last month was how much he enjoyed the small domestic activities with Harry; like cooking, the washing up, snuggling on the couch. It wasn’t anything they had ever really done before Severus had started hatching his plans to help Harry become a better cook, but secretly he was almost glad he had discovered his lover was a horrible cook. Harry rolled over onto his back, and slipped his arms around Severus’s neck.

“I do enjoy our time in the kitchen.” Harry licked his lips sending a jolt of lust down Severus’s body. “Tell you what, you keep helping me in the kitchen, and we can finish those classes. I’ll even try better in class. Also, I won’t mention the take away again if you promise to bring me some next time.” Harry pressed his hips up against Severus, and Severus let his hand slip around Harry’s waist to grab at the tight arse.

“I think I can manage that,” Severus said against the soft lips. Harry hmmed beneath him as Severus’s tongue slid into his mouth. The kiss was slow and thorough, and Severus gently worked the button loose on Harry’s jeans. He pulled back to press kisses to the stubbled jawline. “Harry.”

“Mmm?” Harry’s own hands were sliding over Severus’s chest to work the buttons on his shirt.

“When we decide it’s the right time, I think you’ll make an excellent husband,” he whispered against the sensitive shell of his lover’s ear.

Harry jerked back, his wide green eyes studying Severus intently. A second later Severus was being pressed against the bed, Harry’s hot mouth practically devouring him. Oh, yes. Severus could definitely get used to this domesticity thing.  

\-------------------

He figured it out on a Sunday. He knew that Harry always helped Molly in the kitchen, but even after he realized what a horrid cook Harry was he never really thought about it. He supposed if he had thought about it, he figured Molly just had Harry doing simple things such as peeling potatoes or stirring the vegetables. Which is why he might have been just the smallest bit shocked to see Molly was the one peeling potatoes while Harry was practically dancing around the kitchen as if he were a master chef.

When they lunched at the Burrow, Severus typically spent most of the time conversing with Arthur, Bill, or one of the twins. Occasionally he could even stomach a conversation with Granger-Weasley, Minister in the making. Today, however, he had wished to speak to Molly about some of her recipes that he wanted to try out. Their cooking class had ended two weeks earlier, and, true to his word, Harry had seen them through. Most nights Severus helped in the kitchen, enjoying their time together, and, even on the nights he wasn’t able to make it, Harry seemed to be getting better. At least there hadn’t been anymore mayonnaise on the pizza or overly soggy noodles. So, he was hopeful that they might be able to do a passable imitation of one of her recipes.

When Severus stepped into the kitchen, well, it was really in the shadow of the stairwell, but Severus always did have a tendency to move in the shadows, he was surprised to see Harry standing over the counter mixing and pouring things into a bowl like he was born to it. Molly sat at the table using a slicing charm to peel and cut potatoes.

“I’m so glad you agreed to make the scalloped potatoes, Harry,” She said as she pulled another potato from the bowl beside her. “I much prefer the way you make them. That little dash of cumin does wonders for the cheese.”

“It’s just a bit of spice, Mrs. Weasley. I’ve shown you dozens of times how to do it.”

Molly gave a slight sigh. “I know. But you’ve just got that special touch, Harry dear.”

Severus slipped back into the living room, and, just to test the waters, he moved over to Arthur. The man beamed his usual jolly smile at Severus.

“Hello, Severus.”

Severus nodded. “Arthur. I was going to speak to your wife, but I didn’t want to interrupt her while she was cooking. Do you think she’d share her recipe for Salmon croquettes? They were quite delicious last weekend.”

Arthur let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, Molly hates cooking with fish of any kind. If you enjoyed them so much, you should tell Harry. It’s his recipe after all, and I just bet he’d love to make them for you. You know, I wish some my own boys were as adept in the kitchen as Harry is. Molly always enjoys having Harry over to help. Quite the little culinary genius, you have there, Severus. I bet your dinners must be amazing. Not that Molly isn’t a great cook,” Arthur said hurriedly. “But Harry can be quite a chef when he puts his mind to it.”

Severus nodded, and clutched at the glass of whiskey in his hand. Severus had a million questions, but they would have to wait. He absolutely did not understand what his lover was playing at. Severus studied Harry all through dinner, watched as his lover ate and laughed and talked. A time or two, Harry caught his eye, and always gave him a smile and quick wink. Severus couldn’t help but return the smile. Later, as he climbed into bed, he still hadn’t figured Harry’s game out.

\-------------------

“It must be hard on you,” Severus said the following evening as they stood in the kitchen, washing and cutting the vegetables in preparation for dinner.

Harry glanced over his shoulder at Severus with a smile. “What?”

Severus moved over to the counter, just behind Harry, making him need to look up, as Severus placed a stalk of celery on the counter. “How do you do it?”

Harry’s brow furrowed, and a small frown pulled at his lips. “Do what?”

Severus let his fingers trail down Harry’s arm, and watched the goose bumps pop up. “Personally I’d almost rather cut off my own finger than ruin something I’ve spent countless hours working on. I could never bring myself to sabotage my own brewing.”

Harry looked away guiltily, and Severus noticed the pink forming in Harry’s cheeks. Harry’s grip tightened on the knife in his hand, and Severus could see it was shaking. With rage? Fear? Even after all this time, he still didn’t understand Harry.

“Why did you do it, Harry? Why did you lie to me?” He saw Harry’s body flinch at the accusation.

Silence reigned in the kitchen for several minutes, and Severus wondered if Harry was going to answer him. Finally, Harry spoke softly. “Do you like chicken cordon bleu, Severus?”

Severus blinked in confusion, unsure how to answer. “I- I’ve never had it.”

Harry turned to face him, and there was something in his eyes. Something Severus did not understand. “Do you like tortellini?” Again Severus shrugged. “And what about stroganoff?”

Severus huffed in frustration. “Harry, why are you asking me about those things? I’ve never had them.”

Anger flashed in Harry’s eyes, quickly followed by raw pain. Harry turned away and tossed the knife to the counter. “Yes, you have. I’ve made them all. And do you know what you said, Severus?” Severus blinked at his lover. Harry had made those? And Severus had eaten them? When? Harry turned glaring eyes on Severus. “Do you?” he demanded, and Severus shook his head. “Let me tell you what you said, Severus,” Harry said angrily. “‘It’s fine, Harry. Wonderful as always’,” Harry spit the words out like it was a foul-tasting potion. “Every. Fucking. Time. Swedish meatballs. ‘It’s fine, Harry. Wonderful as always.’ Roast with vegetable. ‘It’s fine, Harry. Wonderful as always.’ Roasted duck with orange sauce. “It’s fucking fine, Harry. Fucking wonderful as always.’” Harry clenched his fist and glared at a dumbstruck Severus. Harry threw his hands up in surrender. “So I said ‘fuck it.’ If you couldn’t appreciate my cooking, then you could damn well hate it. I was sick of it. There’s one thing I’m good at, Severus.” Harry held a finger up. “One thing. And I couldn’t even get you to notice it.”

Severus gaped at his lover, unsure what to say. “Harry… I’m sorry. I..” Severus ran a hand through his hair. “Food was… just food. I had so little of it growing up, and what I did have was horrid. My mother was surely the worst cook ever. I learned early on not to taste my food. Simply to shove it in my mouth before my father decided I was too slow, and took my plate as his own.”

Harry let out a sigh, and shook his head. “No, Severus. I apologize. I should have stopped after the first time. Or at the very least, after the first week. I should not have subjected you to some of the awful things I made.”

Severus moved forward, wrapped his arms around Harry, and pressed his lips to Harry’s wild hair. “I suppose it was a bit of a punishment for you as well, having to eat that awful stuff.”

Harry gave a snort, and Severus pulled back to look at him, one eyebrow raised. “You surely don’t think I’d punish myself, do you? Oh, no,” Harry shook his head. “Half the time, I wasn’t even eating the same thing as you, or I had already eaten.” A smile pulled at Harry’s lips. “I think between the two of us, we’ve kept KFC in business the last few months.”

Realization dawned on Severus, and his eyes widened. “You brat!” he cried as he moved away from Harry in righteous indignation. “I knew I hadn’t stuffed a receipt in my robe pocket. Dammit I was always so careful.”

Harry threw his head back with a laugh. “You looked so guilty when you saw that receipt. I just couldn’t help myself.”

Severus waved a finger at Harry. “And those damn cooking classes. You had that teacher damn near sorry for me. I ought to spank your perfect little arse for such a stunt.” Severus moved as quick as a striking snake and grabbed Harry around the waist, pulling the younger man close to him. Harry looked up at Severus, his green eyes laughing with glee. Harry’s hands wrapped around Severus’s biceps as he pressed his body against Severus’s. “Sometimes I forget you were almost a Slytherin,” Severus said softly, his breath ghosting across Harry’s lips. Harry’s tongue darted out to moisten the plump lips, and his green eyes darkened to a familiar shade of lust. “I should be mad at you, Harry James. But I find I can’t be.”

“Why?” Harry teased, rubbing his growing erection against Severus’s thigh. “Because I’m so irresistible?”

“No,” Severus said with a serious look on his face. “Because if you hadn’t done it, then I wouldn’t have tried to get you to improve. And I might never have learned how much I enjoy watching tv with you. Or how much I miss our dates. Or discovered how much I enjoy doing ‘couple’ things with you. Or even how fun it can be to cook a simple meal with you.”

Harry beamed up at him. “The class _was_ fun… Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

Severus smiled down at him. “On one condition. No more ruined dinners.”

“Mmm,” Harry’s hands slid up and down Severus’s biceps. “I can’t make any promises. I might need supervision.”

Severus smirked. “Fine. I like helping you in the kitchen anyways.” Severus bent his head to capture Harry’s lips for a slow kiss, pressing the younger man back against the counter. Harry moaned into his mouth, and Severus slid his lips up Harry’s jawline. “Also, the next couples’ class we take is going to be something you actually _are_ horrible at,” Severus whispered as his hips pressed Harry back against the counter.

“Mmm. What’s that?”

“Dancing.”

“Oh, yes,” Harry moaned as Severus sucked a lobe into his mouth, Harry’s hand clutching Severus’s hair. Severus let a hand slide down the lithe frame. He was rather in the mood for an early dessert.


End file.
